The Geology of the Lesser Antilles
by MillionMoments
Summary: When she offered him a stack of books to read, Geology textbooks weren't exactly top of the list of things he expected. Richard/Camille.
1. A Deficiency of Reading Material

Title: The Geology of the Lesser Antilles

Rating: T

Summary: When she offered him a box full of books, geology text books weren't top of the list of things he expected to find. Richard/Camille.

A/N: I blame isailaway, who asked me one simple question that got me thinking so much it led to this story. They'll be two chapters.

Chapter 1: A Deficiency of Reading Material

* * *

"What do you mean? You've run out of books to read? You can't have read every book on the island? It's a small island, but it's not _that _small," Camille asked in utter disbelief. Richard had subjected her to at least twenty minutes of non-stop moaning about the heat and the lack of things to do, until she'd tersely suggested he just go read. His response had been the rather incredible suggestion that he had in fact 'read everything'.

"Obviously I haven't read every book on the island, but certainly all the ones worth reading. Clement hasn't had a new shipment to his stall for a few weeks and the library is closed for refurbishment."

"Well there are thousands of books online that are out of copyright. _Les Misérables _should keep you busy for a while." And thus quiet, she thought to herself.

"I hate _Les Misérables," _he muttered grumpily.

"You've read _Les Misérables_?" Today was apparently a day for incredulous questions.

"Well you know, I was wrong about _The Count of Monte Cristo _so you know, I thought I'd give some other - _French_ - classics a try."

"You could try and sound like that wasn't such a distasteful experience," she chastised gently, she supposed she should be happy he was making _some_ progress in accepting French culture.

"Some of it was quite distasteful. _Les Misérables, _for example."

"So you don't want to go see the movie?" He levelled her with a look that indicated cinematic adaptions of musicals based on books he hated was not something he was willing to endure, even though Camille thought it might alleviate his boredom slightly. Going to see a film with him would probably be a bit of a chore anyway, she couldn't think of a genre where he wouldn't have some comment to make. He'd probably correct science in Sci-fi movies, complain about incorrect procedure during any sort of crime thriller and just plain complain at anything vaguely romantic.

"Ok, putting aside your apparent hatred of Victor Hugo, my point about downloading classics remains valid. You are not telling me you have read every book that's online free."

"No, but the printer is out of ink and we won't get any more until Monday. Which is also when my emergency Amazon order is due to arrive."

"What has the printer being broken got to do it? Can't you read them on your laptop? Or I can lend you my Kindle!" She suggested brightly. "I'm sure I'll survive the weekend without it. I thought I might, you know, go outside and talk to people." She couldn't help adding the little jab on the end.

"It's not the same reading it on a screen, or a little rectangle of grey plastic!" He protested.

"Do they change the text?" She asked sensibly.

"No!"

"Then how is it not the same?" She very rapidly wished she had not asked, as she was treated to a lecture on how eBooks could never be the same as actual, proper books. This lecture included a long section about the way books smelled, the pleasure of being able to see the progress you were making and something about the satisfaction of being able to crack the spine of a paperback. She just signalled for another drink from her mother somewhere near the start, and used the alcohol to get her through.

"You aren't really listening, are you?" He asked, frustrated with his inability to have her agreeing enthusiastically.

"No, not really, I like my Kindle and you aren't going to convince me to give it up," she told him firmly. "However if you wait here, an idea has occurred to me and I may have some books for you."

"I've seen your book collection Camille, I doubt you have anything I want to read," he said rather decisively.

She'd already stood up and grabbed her bags, "They aren't _my_ books."

* * *

A combination of curiosity and an extra pot of tea kindly supplied by Catherine kept him in his seat on the porch. Around 15 minutes later he saw Camille again, staggering slightly under the weight of a sagging cardboard box. He decided he better be a gentlemen, even if she glared at him for it, and went to help her with it. The box ended up dumped on the table, emitting a cloud of dirt that rather put him off the rest of his tea.

"Where the hell did you pull this out from?" He asked, attempting to wave away the dust cloud and hold in the coughing fit it had induced.

"Back of the garage," She said. Since she made no move to open the box and explain the contents, so Richard did so.

He pulled out a leather bound volume, the sort of old textbooks you see in University libraries because nobody had ever written anything more up to date. He frowned at the title, 'The Geology of the Lesser Antilles'. A quick look through showed several other books along the same vein, along with some other objects that had nothing to do with the books.

"Why do you have a bunch of geology textbooks?" He was perplexed, couldn't think of a logical reason for her owning them.

She looked like she would rather he didn't questions the books' provenance, shifting uncomfortably and smoothing her hair as she was warrant to do when nervous. He briefly wondered if this was a box of evidence from an old case that never got returned to the rightful owners, but he didn't think he'd complained so much that she'd risk that.

"They were my father's," she said in a rush. "He left them behind when he, well, left. _Maman _was going to chuck them out but then she thought I might want them one day. I meant to chuck them out myself but I put them in the back of the garage and forgot about them I guess. Anyway I thought you like science books and so," she shrugged, not sure how to finish her sentence.

"Yeah, this is great, thanks," he told her sincerely. "But there aren't just books in here, do you want to…?"

She cut him off, "Well if you take what you want and then we'll just throw the rest away. Um, come on, you can't carry that home I'll drive you."

* * *

She was quiet on the way home, which worried him as he didn't think he'd experienced such a thing, _ever._ I mean when he went off on a rant he _really _went off, but when they were driving Camille would witter on for nearly the entire time about the most inconsequential things. Though he'd normally relish the silence, he wasn't so emotionally deficient that he didn't know she might be a bit upset. You were supposed to talk about these things, right? He decided to prompt her and see.

"So your father was a Geologist?" he tried.

"Yes," she said shortly.

Well, he had _tried. _Of course the problem now was that he wasn't just concerned, he was curious as well. After a few more moments of silence, he said, "I really can't imagine your Mum marrying a geologist. She's quite…lively. Can't imagine her putting up with somebody who reads 'The Geography of the Lesser Antilles' and hunts rare rocks of a weekend."

"Yeah he was smart, an academic," her response was terse, but at least more than a single word. He briefly wondered if this was how she felt when she was probing _him_ about his past.

"Not that smart," he said absently. She took her eyes off the road to shoot him a look, and he realised he was going to have to explain himself. "Well, what I mean is, you know, only a real idiot would have left your mother and you."

She seemed briefly taken aback by his muddled explanation, but he thought he caught the ghost of a smile before she said, "Well you know, academically smart, emotionally an idiot. Besides, you know what they say."

They'd arrived at his place, and she parked up as she made the last statement. He wasn't sure what they say, he was too busy considering the fact he very much fell into the 'academically smart, emotionally an idiot' category along with her father. Except a little voice in the back of his head said Fiona Bruce herself could flutter her eyelashes at him and he wouldn't leave Camille for her, but that was an entirely moot point because he wasn't, and would never be, with Camille.

"Um," he said, trying to think of what she meant. "Geologists are idiots?"

"What?" She was looking at him like he might have had a stroke.

"I'm sorry I don't know what they say," he explained.

"Opposites attract," she said very slowly, as though she were explaining something to a child. "You know, people who outwardly may seem very different and not seem to share any interests actually prove to work quite well as a couple?"

"_Oh right,_ you'd jumped back to talk about why your Mum and Dad were together. How am I supposed to have figured that out?" He complained mildly. She just shot him a grin that may or may not have caused his stomach to do that weird flippy thing. "You know studies have actually shown that 'opposites attract' is a fallacy, and that individuals in a relationship require similar finances, intelligence levels and class backgrounds, as well as some common interests, in order for the relationship to work…" he trailed off, the look she was giving him was not exactly best pleased.

"Are you saying _that's_ why my father left? Because my mother wasn't intelligent enough for him?" She asked angrily.

"I thought we established your father was the idiot," it was the first thing that came into his head and for once in his life it proved to actually be the right thing to say. She flashed him a grin and said, "Good answer." There was a moment of silence, and he thought about how many times he'd wished she'd just _be quiet_ in the car and now here he was sitting in it voluntarily talking to her. Realising there wasn't really anything left to say, he slid out of the vehicle and retrieved the box (bloody hell it was heavy).

"Ok, I'll see you Monday," he told her, trying not to let the exertion of carrying the damn box show.

"Do you want some help?"

"I'm fine," he said, though maybe with a little bit of a squeak. He was being stubborn and she knew it, but apparently was going to let him suffer - giving him a little wave and reversing away. He began sorting the books into piles when he got in - general geology, paleobiology and natural history. The question was where to start. He picked up a geological map of Barbados, wondering if his basic geology was good enough to understand the textbooks or if he should brush up on the technical language first. He flicked through the book, and was surprised when something fell out. He bent over and retrieved what proved to be a Polaroid picture, and couldn't keep the smile off his face. He put it away safely, surely she'd want to keep this?

Cracking open "A Guide to the Identification of Geological Formations", he began to read.


	2. Take Back the Memories

Chapter Two: Take Back the Memories.

A/N: It didn't come out how I wanted it to, but I wasn't going to leave it unfinished!

* * *

She actually gave him less than twenty four hours of grace. Early the next evening a shadow fell across him as he was reading 'The Geology of the Lesser Antilles, having brushed up on his basic geology enough to now be able to cope with the more detailed textbooks. She dropped her bag and took the seat next to him.

"I thought you were spending your weekend outside, talking to people," he said, he resisted the urge to put down the book and give her his full attention, wouldn't want her to think she was actually welcome to just turn up out of the blue. Even if that was technically true…

"Well I believe," she said slowly. "That this is actually outside. And also, you are, no matter how hard you sometimes try to convince us otherwise, 'people'. Thus my plans remain unchanged."

Well, the argument was certainly irrefutable. He placed down the old book and tried to think of something to say, but she beat him too it, "How are the geology studies going?" she asked casually.

"Good thanks, proved useful for identifying the fossils lining the bottom on the box, no wonder the thing was so heavy. Don't worry I was careful with them, I've wrapped them all up and put them in a better box," he went to stand to fetch it for her, but she cut him off.

"Oh I don't want them back," that same casual tone now sounded a little strained, if he were interviewing somebody he'd be getting suspicious about now.

"Camille they're really quite good specimens, there is a really quite nice _Nautilus praepompilius_ and what I think is a Baleen whale jaw," he told her brightly.

"You can keep them then," she sounded rather annoyed at him, and he really wasn't sure what he was doing wrong.

"Um, okay, maybe," this conversation was not going the way he expected. Perhaps he shouldn't assume everyone would like fossils as much as he did. "Ok well, you'll want this, it fell out of one of the books."

He handed her the Polaroid picture that had amused him so much the night before. It showed Camille, clearly recognisable despite being no older than four in the photograph, sitting on the shoulders on what he presumed was her father. He might not always get the appeal of children, but he had thought she was rather cute at that age, with her frizzy hair and bright pink swim suit. Camille was staring at the photo, her expression unreadable, and then suddenly she burst into noisy, messy tears.

"Oh dear," was all he could manage, he hadn't exactly expected this. She'd always shrugged off the whole father leaving when she was small thing in the past. But then again she'd seemed tense yester. God, he was a real idiot sometimes. "Um, you're upset. Um, do you want me to call your Mum?"

"No!" She protested loudly, and he stopped in the doorway. "I'm fine!" She said between sobs. "I mean, just give me a minute."

"I. um, didn't mean to upset you," he passed her his handkerchief trying to be useful in some way. She used it to wipe her eyes, but she was still crying so it didn't really help at all.

He sat back down in the seat next to her, "Are you sure you don't want me to call somebody?" He tried again, feeling thoroughly useless. She shook her head vigorously, and before he could convince himself otherwise he reached out and rubbed her arm in what he hoped was a comforting manner. This had surprising results, as she immediately leaned into him and started to cry into his shoulder. He awkwardly tried putting his arm around her, and since she didn't shove him off in disgust he figured he wasn't doing so badly.

Eventually, the sobbing subsided, and she pulled back – actually managing to dry her eyes properly this time.

"I bet you think I'm an idiot," she said, still sniffling slightly. "Take one look at a photo and burst into tears for no apparent reasons."

"I'm sure you have very good reasons," he said sensibly. "If anyone's an idiot it'll be me for not thinking, as normal."

"It's not your fault," she was sincere, and he felt a bit better. "That picture was taken in the Bahamas. I was four, we all went out, and my father was doing some sort of lecture series I think. He put me up onto his shoulders and walked out into the ocean, and he just kept walking and walking and we were so far out but still above the water."

"The Bahamas platform," Richard explained. "What you see of the islands is just the tip of a massive deposit of lime, the water around the islands is very shallow, the sea floor there being a carbonate platform, and then it'll suddenly drop away. There are places you can walk out a couple of kilometres." She was staring at him, and he realised that geological explanations weren't exactly what she was hoping to get out of this conversation. He muttered an apology and she dropped her intent gaze, apparently willing to let it go.

"Well, you know, I just got upset because I was so happy at that point and then…"she trailed off.

The time it took him to reply was a little longer than was comfortable, so he took a deep breath and spat something out, "I don't think you should let him take that away from you?"

"What?" she asked, clearly having no clue about what he was one about.

"Right," he said, shifting a little and trying to sound more confident than he was. "Well, you know, sometimes things can happen, you know, and they, um, taint good memories and make them into bad ones – but it doesn't have to be that way. It's like, like when you break up with somebody and for ages rivers make you sad because they remind you of punting." Her raised eyebrows made him regret using a personal example. "Or something. But whatever happens in the future, it didn't make the feelings you had _at the time_ less significant. I just think a happy memory can stay that way if you want it too. You shouldn't let somebody take…rivers or, or fossils away from you. Especially because fossils are really interesting," He finished rather lamely.

When he did muster up enough courage to look at her, she was smiling softly, "That's not bad advice," She told him.

"Well, you know, I also read some psychology textbooks," his tone self-deprecating. "Though I think my geology is probably stronger."

"Did you see the ammonite with the massive crack in it?" She asked

"Yeah, why?"

"I knocked that off a shelf and tried to stick it back together with nail polish. This annoyed both of my parents greatly," She told him, grinning.

"Yeah the adhesive properties of nail polish aren't exactly well celebrated," he replied, smiling back.

"Just wait until I tell you my method for attempting to resurrect his butterfly collection."

Maybe his psychology wasn't so bad.

* * *

A/N: See I was going to have them 'get together' but then it didn't feel right. And thus I lost my ending!


	3. Alternative Ending

Chapter Two: Take Back the Memories.

A/N: Ok here is an alternative chapter 2! Starts off the same.

* * *

She actually gave him less than twenty four hours of grace. Early the next evening a shadow fell across him as he was reading 'The Geology of the Lesser Antilles, having brushed up on his basic geology enough to now be able to cope with the more detailed textbooks. She dropped her bag and took the seat next to him.

"I thought you were spending your weekend outside, talking to people," he said, he resisted the urge to put down the book and give her his full attention, wouldn't want her to think she was actually welcome to just turn up out of the blue. Even if that was technically true…

"Well I believe," she said slowly. "That this is actually outside. And also, you are, no matter how hard you sometimes try to convince us otherwise, 'people'. Thus my plans remain unchanged."

Well, the argument was certainly irrefutable. He placed down the old book and tried to think of something to say, but she beat him too it, "How are the geology studies going?" she asked casually.

"Good thanks, proved useful for identifying the fossils lining the bottom on the box, no wonder the thing was so heavy. Don't worry I was careful with them, I've wrapped them all up and put them in a better box," he went to stand to fetch it for her, but she cut him off.

"Oh I don't want them back," that same casual tone now sounded a little strained, if he were interviewing somebody he'd be getting suspicious about now.

"Camille they're really quite good specimens, there is a really quite nice _Nautilus praepompilius_ and what I think is a Baleen whale jaw," he told her brightly.

"You can keep them then," she sounded rather annoyed at him, and he really wasn't sure what he was doing wrong.

"Um, okay, maybe," this conversation was not going the way he expected. Perhaps he shouldn't assume everyone would like fossils as much as he did. "Ok well, you'll want this, it fell out of one of the books."

He handed her the Polaroid picture that had amused him so much the night before. It showed Camille, clearly recognisable despite being no older than four in the photograph, sitting on the shoulders on what he presumed was her father. He might not always get the appeal of children, but he had thought she was rather cute at that age, with her frizzy hair and bright pink swim suit. Camille was staring at the photo, her expression unreadable, and then suddenly she burst into noisy, messy tears.

"Oh dear," was all he could manage, he hadn't exactly expected this. She'd always shrugged off the whole father leaving when she was small thing in the past. But then again she'd seemed tense yesterday. God, he was a real idiot sometimes. "Um, you're upset. Um, do you want me to call your Mum?"

"No!" She protested loudly, and he stopped in the doorway. "I'm fine!" She said between sobs. "I mean, just give me a minute."

"I, um, didn't mean to upset you," he passed her his handkerchief trying to be useful in some way. She used it to wipe her eyes, but she was still crying so it didn't really help at all.

He sat back down in the seat next to her, "Are you sure you don't want me to call somebody?" He tried again, feeling thoroughly useless. She shook her head vigorously, and before he could convince himself otherwise he reached out and rubbed her arm in what he hoped was a comforting manner. This had surprising results, as she immediately leaned into him and started to cry into his shoulder. He awkwardly tried putting his arm around her, and since she didn't shove him off in disgust he figured he wasn't doing so badly.

With the sobbing reduced to the odd sniffle, she told him, "That picture was taken in the Bahamas. I was four, we all went out, and my father was doing some sort of lecture series I think. He put me up onto his shoulders and walked out into the ocean, and he just kept walking and walking and we were so far out but still above the water."

"The Bahamas platform," Richard explained. "What you see of the islands is just the tip of a massive deposit of lime, the water around the islands is very shallow, the sea floor there being a carbonate platform, and then it'll suddenly drop away. There are places you can walk out a couple of kilometres." She was staring at him, and he realised that geological explanations weren't exactly what she was hoping to get out of this conversation. He muttered an apology and she dropped her intent gaze, apparently willing to let it go.

"Well, you know, I just got upset because I was so happy at that point and then…"she trailed off.

The time it took him to reply was a little longer than was comfortable, so he took a deep breath and spat something out, "I don't think you should let him take that away from you."

"What?" she asked, clearly having no clue about what he was one about.

"Right," he said, shifting a little and trying to sound more confident than he was. "Well, you know, sometimes things can happen, you know, and they, um, taint good memories and make them into bad ones – but it doesn't have to be that way. It's like, like when you break up with somebody and for ages rivers make you sad because they remind you of punting." Her raised eyebrows made him regret using a personal example. "Or something. But whatever happens in the future, it didn't make the feelings you had _at the time_ less significant. I just think a happy memory can stay that way if you want it too. You shouldn't let somebody take…rivers or, or fossils away from you. Especially because fossils are really interesting," He finished rather lamely.

When he did muster up enough courage to look at her, she was staring at him with the sort of intensity that he hasn't expected. Before he could enquire if she was ok, she practically launched herself at him and kissed him. He blamed the complete surprise of her actions, the fact that he found himself so very suddenly surrounded by her scent, the shock of pleasure induced by the sudden pressure of her mouth against his for why he responded enthusiastically for a few moments without considering the consequences. However when he tasted her tears that spell was broken. He placed his hand on her shoulders and pushed her back gently. When she looked up at him his resolve very nearly cracked immediately, but he steeled himself.

"Look, I…well, you're a bit upset. Sometimes, if people are upset, maybe they try to find a distraction. And I have to wonder if that was, you know, you seeking a distraction. Because I wouldn't want to take advantage if it was."

She didn't respond directly to his statement, instead telling him, "That's two bits of psychology in one night."

"Yeah well, I also have some psychology textbooks," he said mildly.

She smiled, "Well you're right. I am a bit sad, and it would be nice to feel… wanted, and yes, I could use a distraction."

"Right, yeah, thought that might be it," he tried not to look or sound disappointed.

"But if I know that I'm seeking a distraction, are you really taking advantage of me?" She added.

Richard frowned, and then stood moving to go into the house. "Where are you going?" She called out to him.

"To check the psychology text book, I'm afraid my geology remains better than my psychology."

"Sit back down," she told him in the sort of tone that clearly indicated there would be negative consequences if he didn't do as he was told. "Maybe that was a stupid way to phrase it, I didn't think you'd try to answer the question. Let me put it this way. Before I ever had the idea to lend you my father's books, I wanted to kiss you. I will want to kiss you tomorrow, I will want to kiss you next week after I've shaken off this whole thing and accepted your rather good advice. I will want to kiss you when I get you to tell me about all those stupid fossils. I will _always _want to kiss you. Do you get that?"

"I think so. Basically, it's not taking advantage of you because all things considered you'd probably kiss me, or let me kiss you, again in the near future?"

"I very much hope so," She had such an amazing smile, and she wasn't crying anymore, and he really, really wanted to kiss her. But for some reason he wasn't moving.

"Oh for God's sake," She threw her arms up in the air in defeat, but then sat in his lap and started kissing him again before he could apologise for his denseness. He was pretty sure that actually, she may well be taking advantage of him.

Of course, he was totally ok with that.


End file.
